Mudblood's Curse
by Mrs. Trickster Queen
Summary: Arietta Sly has spent almost six years as a Slytherin girl at Hogwarts. She has been teased and bullied her entire life by Draco Malfoy, but when she makes a shocking discovery, their lives gets turned upside-down. Please read! Rated T just in case...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! I just want to warn you, this is not the traditional Malfoy turns good story. He is a coward, and he is a jerk. But I wanted to challenge myself and see if I could make him fall in love with someone he hates. To add some spice, this takes place in the sixth book, so Draco's going through some tough times. But anyway, read, review, and enjoy!**

My robe was wrinkled, but it was the only one clean, so it would have to do. My silver and green tie had a huge crease going down the middle, but I pulled it over my head anyway, vowing silently to iron it the next chance I got. As I looked in the mirror, I saw the familiar Slytherin scowl settling on my lips. There were three expressions I had picked up like fleas during my six years at Hogwarts: the scowl, the sneer, and the smirk. They seemed to seep into everything I did, no matter how hard I tried to fight it.

I had been shunned my first year, which probably should have stunted my growth as a Slytherin girl. Unfortunately, it hadn't. It seemed to make me even more bitter then my Housemates. To begin, I was American, and not very well off. I was also Muggle-born. My golden-red hair clashed violently with the Slytherin colors, and I had heard many times that I would look better as a Gryffindor. My sea-green eyes were the only part of me that didn't look terrible. I had attracted the attention of Draco Malfoy, the top Slytherin, almost the minute I had walked through the door. Even seventh years had quickly learned to respect or fear him. His best and only comeback seemed to be "My father will hear about this," but it was sufficient. He called me Mudblood instead of using my name, which I had gotten used to and now barely even noticed. Malfoy himself, of course, was a pureblood, and looked down on me because of my Muggle-born status. In the second year he had relented a bit, and that seemed to be a signal for the others to accept me as one of their own, however grudgingly. However, the entire House still made me constantly aware that I was not on their level. Sighing, I trudged down to the dining hall.

Breakfast ensued per usual. I sat on the end of the table, at least a foot away from the next Slytherin, and watched idly as Draco Malfoy and his idiotic companions, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, made fun of Harry Potter. Potter was a Gryffindor, and Malfoy had what seemed to be a driven-in hatred for the other boy. Potter had almost destroyed Voldemort, the terror of the wizarding world, a few times, and Malfoy had claimed many times to be one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's dreaded followers. This wild claim greatly enhanced his popularity with the other Slytherins. Among his avid followers was Pansy Parkinson. I stirred my oatmeal disgustedly. She was a pug-faced girl with short, dark-brown hair, and she jealously warded off other girls. Malfoy had the tendency to be somewhat of a player, especially since his fourth year, and many girls had for some reason developed huge crushes on him. Parkinson was the only girl Malfoy ever paid positive attention to, although he enjoyed crushing other girls' hopes. Even Parkinson, however, couldn't keep his interest. This year he had been downright ignoring her, and even though it had only been two months, I could see the Slytherin girl getting desperate.

Taking a last bite of my toast, I slid down the bench and left the table, tearing my eyes away from Malfoy's smug features. I couldn't deny his good looks, although it would have been much easier to completely hate him if he were ugly. My first period was free, but that didn't really mean I had nothing to do. The library called, and I responded eagerly.

The dark, paper-y smelling room was a perfect sanctuary for my thoughts. Diving my nose into my book, I pretended to read while my mind drifted. I had barely understood Muggle Studies homework… And forget about Potions, but Snape did favor Slytherins…

"Mudblood." A sharp drawl cut through my fog of thought. "Move. This is my seat."

I rolled my eyes, snapping, "Shove it, Malfoy." I was not in the mood to be bullied into giving up one seat out of a hundred unoccupied ones. Malfoy's lackey stepped forward menacingly, and I frowned. I was also not in the mood to become a punching bag for Crabbe and Goyle. Shoving my seat back, I smirked as the hard backing drove into Crabbe's stomach. The ugly boy wheezed and I strutted away, eager to get out of the library as fast as possible. Bumping Malfoy out of my way with a shoulder, I broke into a run.

I only made it a few feet beyond the door before Malfoy grabbed my arm and halted me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see hatred and rage twisting his handsome features. "Mudblood!" he called, spitting the word out like he was saying 'Harry Potter.' I did not turn around, afraid that if I saw his face I would punch him.

"That's not my name." I winced as I heard my voice, deadly quiet, echo down the hall. No one was anywhere near us, and the library door was solid oak and soundproof. I was so dead.

"If the cloak fits…" I could hear the sneer in his voice. "You're a filthy Mudblood. I bet that's why your Muggle mother dumped you in an orphanage… you were too ugly and too much of a shame, even for her…"

"Shut up." My voice had gone wickedly low, almost a whisper. Turning slowly on my heel, I came face-to-face with the smirking blonde.

"No wonder she abandoned you." He looked me up and down. "Even your Muggle mum realized what a freak you are-"

My fist came flying up almost of its own accord and slammed into Malfoy's cheek. Pain and surprise flitted across his steel grey eyes as he stumbled backward. At that moment, Crabbe and Goyle came lumbering out of the library. Their eyes widened when they took in my bloody fist and Malfoy's bloody nose. Moving faster then I knew they could, they had quickly pinned my arms behind my back. Malfoy staggered forward, his fist rising, but my foot flashed up and struck him on the cheekbone. Almost instantly, a gratifyingly large blue-and-black pool spread across his cheek. "Bloody hell," he spat.

"Why are you even talking to me about family issues?" I said, fighting the two goons holding my arms. "It isn't as if you have the world's greatest family. You're dad is in Azkaban, your mom is Merlin knows where…" One of the cronies elbowed me in the stomach, but gasping, I plowed on. "And not to mention that the Malfoy heir boasts of being in cahoots with the most evil and twisted wizard known to society as of yet, but won't even punch his own victim…"

"Shut up," Malfoy snapped. His breathing was loud and harsh, his face twisted with hatred. "When the Dark Lord rises, I will make sure you are the first of the Mudbloods to die." Scowling, he turned away, striding quickly away from me towards the hospital wing. His minions shoved me against the wall, then lumbered after him.

A seventh year girl with long blonde hair and big blue eyes rushed up to me. She was wearing the Hufflepuff colors. "Are you alright?" she asked, helping me up from where I was slumped against the wall. I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"Yeah, I'm good."

**What'd ya think? No, I really want to know. In fact, I'm going to be really mean to my readers right here and say I want to know so bad that I won't post another chapter until I get ten reviews. Yes, I know, unfair, but it is achievable. The thing that is making me do this is that I have 2,026 visitors to one of my stories, but only nineteen reviews. And it's ticking me off, so wa-la. This is the outcome. Sorry people, but this seems like the only way to get other peoples' opinions! So tell your friends, tell your family… Thanks! (And pie for anyone who reviews.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey people! So, as I said in my comment in Reviews, I have decided (actually a long time ago) to update my story sooner then it would take to get ten reviews. So, yeah. Read, review, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I think everyone knows what I own and what I (sadly) don't.**

Two hours later, I found my way down the hall blocked by Pansy Parkinson. "Hey, Sly," she called, standing on tiptoe to get her eyes level with mine. "Stay away from Draco."

She didn't mince words, did she? I snorted. "Happy to." Shoving past her, I continued down the hall, rolling my eyes as she scurried after me.

"You really hurt him, you know that?" she puffed, her voice shrill with anger. I could tell she was having trouble keeping up with my long-legged stride. "Draco is very fragile-"

"Oh, really? If he's so fragile, then why does he go around picking fights so often?" Parkinson's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "Right. Thought so. Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"Because he's going to marry me!" she blustered. For a split second, I felt sorry for her. "Anyway, that's none of your business, Mudblood."

I sneered. "Well, have fun. He's a real catch." Parkinson stopped in surprise, and I left her easily behind. Of course, five minutes later, I found my way blocked by Draco Malfoy. "Get out of my way," I sighed, already tired of him. "I don't need any trouble."

"You asked for trouble when you gave me this," he sneered, jerking his head to display his bruise. I bit my lip in an effort not to laugh. The mark on his usually clear skin was green in the center and dark purple on the rim. The impression was clearly one of a fist.

"Oh, is baby Draco upset?" I mocked. "Does he want Mommy or Daddy? Oh, wait- Daddy's in Azkaban!"

"Shut up, Mudblood," he snapped, running a hand through his hair. I raised an eyebrow at his pathetic comeback and began to walk past him. Suddenly, I stopped and backed up slowly.

"Why do you hate me so much, Malfoy?" I asked. The blonde Slytherin boy laughed shakily.

"You're a filthy little Mudblood. What other reason do I need?"

Ignoring that, I tilted my head. "I make you uneasy, don't I? I got into Slytherin, but I am very far from pureblooded. I don't bow down to you, and I don't worship Voldemort."

"Don't say that," Malfoy hissed. His eyes flicked instinctively from side to side, a slightly redundant gesture, seeing as there was no one in the halls. Notably, Crabbe and Goyle were also nowhere to be found. "Don't say his name."

"What, Voldemort? Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort," I chanted. Fear built up in Malfoy's eyes and he shoved me into a wall. I fell back hard, sliding to the ground. "What's your problem?" I spat.

"You have no idea what you're doing," Malfoy muttered, his grey eyes unfocused. I began to protest, but he stopped me with a sharp glance. His skittish behavior was beginning to make me uneasy. Malfoy had always had such an air of arrogance that it was almost frightening to see him so off-balanced. "The Dark Lord-"

"Lord over what?" I snorted, trying to conceal my discomfort. "He's just a man, and Voldemort is just a name." Malfoy slapped me. I gasped, although I had kind of seen it coming. What the boy said next, however, did shock me.

"Voldemort will kill me and my family, you filthy Mudblood. I don't expect you to understand the kind of respect I have for him."

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't help it. "Kill you?" A thousand thoughts ran through my mind, but my mouth blurted the rudest one: "Why would he want to kill _you_?"

Malfoy looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time, then suddenly backed away. His face held disgust and disbelief, and something sharp that I couldn't identify. Giving me one last hate-filled glare, he hurried away.

Bewildered, I slumped against the wall. What was that all about?

People streamed through into the hall, and another, more urgent thought flashed across my mind: I had missed all of Defense Against the Dark Arts!

**Alright! Again, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review. I need feedback to become a better writer. Plus, reviews make me happy, and a happy author writes more! Sorry about how short this was… it was just a good place to end the chapter. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Sorry it's been so long, I've been really busy with schoolwork and have had a massive amount of writers block. It's gone now, though. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review- I would love to hear back from you!**

**Disclaimer: C'mon. Really? You know what I do and do not own. I don't need to go through this, do I?**

"Detention, Sly!" Professor Snape snapped as I passed him on the way to Transfiguration from the missed class of DADA. I scowled as he stepped in front of me, dark robes billowing out behind him. "My office, seven o'clock tonight."

As much as Snape liked to coddle Slytherins, he didn't seem to like me very much. I got almost perfect grades in his classes, but the ongoing rivalry between me and Malfoy, his favorite student, seemed to affect how he saw me. Funnily enough, I didn't see him talking to Malfoy very often anymore. In fact, it sometimes seemed as though Malfoy was intentionally avoiding the hooked-nosed professor. Food for thought.

Seven o'clock came in the middle of dinner, much to my dismay. I scowled as the clock in the Great Hall hit 6:57 pm and reluctantly abandoned my pot pie. Of course Snape would schedule my detention in the middle of eating. That was just another way of him torturing me for missing class. The only good thing was that I knew he wouldn't take house points away. Unlike Professor McGonagall, the Gryffindor head, he wasn't counter productive.

"Come in," Snape said when I knocked on the door. Malfoy was already in there, his white-blonde hair, carefully slicked back as always, shining in the low light. A glower was plastered to his features, which I found odd- normally he would take any opportunity to suck up to Snape. What I found stranger, however, was the fact that he had to turn up for detention in the first place. Snape's low voice cut through my thoughts before I could do anymore analyzing of the tension between the two: "I assume both of you know what you are here for?"

We nodded at the same time, Malfoy rather sulkily. "Good. Sly, you will be sorting pickled horned slugs, good from bad. Mr. Malfoy, you will come over here and help me with tomorrow's lesson preparations."

I scowled at Snape's blatant disrespect of me- or over-respectful attitude towards "Mr. Malfoy-" and strode over to a table on the far side of the room. Of course _I_ would have to deal with the nastiness of Snape's persistent potion obsession. He wasn't the potions teacher anymore, but that didn't seem to have stopped his fascination with brewing all sorts of draughts. About fifty jars of the pickled slugs sat on the table. I grimaced.

"Professor? Where are the gloves?" I asked, looking around. I didn't see any, but maybe they were hidden in a drawer somewhere?

"You won't need gloves," Snape replied silkily. My mouth dropped open and I stared at the jars. Disgusting. My hatred for the professor rose considerably.

An hour into the detention, my hands were covered in slime and whatever the slugs were pickled in. I fought back vomit as I picked another one out of my tenth jar. A large cut split it up the side, and pale green guts spilled out. I tossed it into the "bad" pile. Nasty. Behind me, Malfoy and Snape worked silently, Malfoy wordlessly copying handouts with a simple spell. Snape sifted through books, looking for pictures and text. When he found what he was looking for, he handed it over to Malfoy. For one moment, it looked as though he was talking, and Malfoy's face soured. But that was stupid- no sounds were coming out of the professor's mouth.

Another minute, another slug. I sighed and closed my eyes as the next one burst open as my hand closed around it. Shuddering, I reached for another one. This was the worst part, when I was almost at the bottom of a jar and had to reach all the way into the pickling juice/slime mixture to reach my next slug. This one was slimy and covered in the guts of the last one I had tried to get out, but otherwise fine. I tossed it into the "good" pile.

I snuck a peek behind me and almost fell over at what I saw. Malfoy was standing up, obviously yelling at Snape, who looked frustrated. I couldn't hear anything, however. For a brief moment I wondered if I had gone deaf. Then, my brain caught up to the circumstances and realized that Snape had probably cast some sort of spell to keep me from hearing anything. Malfoy stormed out of the office at that moment, and Snape did nothing to stop him. He did, however, glance at me. Muttering something quickly, he then called over, "Mind your business, Sly. Report back here tomorrow to finish your detention."

Understanding that I was dismissed, I turned and followed Malfoy out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey people! Wow, I'm posting two times in two days! Yay! I know this is short, but I'll post another chapter soon. This one's just to tide you over. As always, please read and review! I love reviews, people! And I'll probably take suggestions, as long as I like them and they fit into the story. Also, an incentive! If five (or more) people review, Draco will kiss Arietta within the next few chapters! YAY! ;) So, enjoy!**

Later that night, I decided to go down to the common room. I couldn't sleep, and the light of the ever-present glow from the lake was a good, if not perfect, source of light to read by. I usually fell asleep in my nightgown and bathrobe on one of the low-backed, dark-green leather sofas, only to be awoken in the morning by whoever was the first one down. A couple of times, the Bloody Baron drifted through, but I was fine with that as long as he didn't interact with me.

The cold cut right to the bone and I shivered, pulling my robe more tightly around me. There really was nothing as chilly as a winter night's air. As I neared the bottom of the staircase, however, I heard something a bit stranger. There was someone in the common room, making a noise I never liked to hear: quiet, muffled sobs.

I bit my lip and considered going back. It was like being in the bathroom, and someone you don't know that well comes in. You just don't want to be seen. I wasn't doing anything wrong, though, just reading after everyone else was asleep. Well, obviously not everyone else, but still.

Okay. If it was someone like Crabbe or Goyle down there, I was turning around and making sure they didn't see me. But if it was a quiet kid like Kreisler, I would just curl up and read. Kreisler was manipulative, sure, but so were most Slytherins. Anyway, he wouldn't bother anyone outright.

Slowly, I made my way down the staircase. The soothing sound of the lake water lapping gently against the window soothed me. It was probably just some homesick first year that was missing their parents. I could deal with that.

The freezing stone floor met my bare feet and I winced. I always hated that sensation after stepping from warm carpet. Then I looked up, and immediately wished I had listened to my instinct. Draco Malfoy's familiar hair shone silver in the greenish light. His robe-clad shoulders shook and his hands covered his angular features. His usually sleek hair was mussed and fell into his eyes, as though he had run his hands repeatedly through it. I battled a sudden instinct to go comfort him- even if he did look like he needed consoling, I was sure he wouldn't appreciate me going over and giving him a hug, or whatever.

I backed up slowly, being careful not to make any noise. Maybe I would find a lamp or something to use within the safety of my dorm. At that moment, however, Malfoy looked up. His icy grey eyes, slightly puffy from crying, met mine with shock. For a moment, I stood there like a deer in headlights. A stupid thought crossed my mind: How does he manage to still look good when crying? Then my brain kicked in and I sprinted out of the common room, up the stairs, and into my dorm room, when I jumped into bed, heart pounding. After a few minutes, I shimmied under my green-and-silver covers. The canopies around my bed made me feel safer, enclosing me in green warmth. Shutting Draco Malfoy and his bitter tears out, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay! Arietta and Quidditch… not the best pair, but I managed… I hope! Tell me how I did! Please review, and remember, I may speed up the romance a bit if you do… Hint hint! **

I was very tempted to tell Parkinson about what I had seen the next morning. She kept going on and on about how wonderful he was, how dignified, how special. "He's not afraid of anybody, or anything, and he certainly knows which side to fall in with." She smirked, throwing a glance over to me. I let one of my eyebrows twitch up and down and continued eating my grapefruit. "Plus, he's smart enough to keep the wizarding line pure. He's so admirable," she drawled. I looked up at the ceiling.

"Please, Parkinson. _Some_ people are eating." I looked pointedly at her tiny fruit cup, which she had barely touched. She scowled.

"Well, of course _you_ would take offense, Mudblood," she sneered. "Your family is all Muggle, isn't that right?"

"Shove it, Parkinson. Would be just like you to have a Muggle in your family, too. Are you hiding something your precious Draco should know about?"

"As if." Despite her confident words, however, a glimmer of something shone in her eyes. She turned back to her friends, making sure to raise her voice this time. "As I was saying, Draco knows how to pick the right types of girls. He's great, don't you think, Chessie?"

Before the rest of Draco's fan club could speak up, I decided to. I was sick of hearing Parkinson praise Malfoy like he was the only person worthy of being a wizard. "If your little Draco is so great, then why did he-"

Right at that moment, Malfoy caught my eye. If he looked any more indifferent, he would have been stone, but all I could remember is how scared his sobs had been, how fragile he had looked before he had noticed me-

"Yes…?" Parkinson said, waving her hands impatiently. An expectant eyebrow had glued itself to her hairline. I hesitated, then took a deep breath and backed down. _I'm just picking my battles, _I told myself, but I knew it wasn't that.

"Nothing."

Parkinson snorted, then turned back to Chessie. I put my grapefruit on top of my stacks of dishes- pancakes, oatmeal, and an omelet had joined the grapefruit as my breakfast, as well as a couple glasses of juice- and left the breakfast table early. I seemed to be doing that more and more lately.

As always, I headed to the one place I knew I'd be able to get some peace: the library. Even though sometimes it felt like I was living a book- after all, when I was younger, hadn't I read novels about wizards?- I still loved to dwell in mysterious worlds full of passion and intrigue, and learn more about the world I was only just beginning to be a part of. Anyway, it was a great escape from everyday crap. Like Malfoy.

Speaking of the devil; Malfoy's voice echoed throughout the hall. "Noble, Mudblood. Maybe you should have been sorted into Gryffindor."

"Shut up." Why did the bully always turn up when I was going to the library? Sneaking a peak behind me, I saw that Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be found. "Where are your cronies? Still stuffing their faces in the dining hall?"

He didn't answer, just strode past me. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" I called after him.

I could hear the smirk in his voice as he answered, "Death eater meeting. We're discussing whether or not to kill you."

An hour later, I stumbled onto the Quidditch field with the rest of the school. The air was freezing, and I pulled my heavy cloak and scarf closer around me. My breath hung in a cloud of fog in front of me. Scooting into a seat near the commenter's booth, I nodded to the headmaster in greeting, then proceeded to read the book I had brought: "The Marauding Muggle." It was such a stupid view on Muggles. They weren't slow, clumsy, or anything of the sort- well, not most of them. I guessed that it was like Muggles writing about wizards, though. Misconceptions dominated the stories. Either way, it was a funny story. Yawning, I looked up just in time to see Malfoy hurtling towards me, his eyes wide. I glanced up to find a pretty little golden ball whizzing above my head. "Oh," I said in surprise, and reached up to snatch it out of the air. Malfoy swerved to avoid me, then rose up to stare at me. I turned to Professor Dumbledore, who was wearing an amused expression. "What do I do with this?"

"That's the Snitch," Malfoy hissed. The stadium hushed as people slowly began to realize what happened, and my cheeks heated. Oh. _That_ Snitch. I held it out to Malfoy, who refused to take it from me. The commenter, Loony Lovegood, looked at me dreamily. "A Slytherin has caught the snitch," she said. No one applauded. The ref raised an eyebrow, pointed to her throat, then spoke. Her voice carried throughout the stadium. "Arietta Sly and Draco Malfoy, please come with me. Everyone else, you are dismissed."

The school filed out of the stadium, throwing me dirty looks as they passed. I cowered behind Dumbledore, who grinned at me cheerfully. "That was a very good catch," he told me. Snape just glared at me.

Finally, I made my way from the bleachers to the field with as much dignity as I could. The ref strode back into the castle, and, head bowed, I shuffled after her. A knot building in my stomach warned me that I was in big trouble. Malfoy aimed a sharp scowl in my direction as he followed.

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting in an uncomfortable chair, Malfoy sulking by the door behind me. Pictures of teenagers on brooms covered the walls and the desk in front of me. The ref frowned at me from behind it. "There is nothing in the rules about this," she said, her eyes boring into my skull. I gulped, fearing that at any moment either the ref or Malfoy would pull out their wand and catch me with the killing curse. "I do not believe this has ever happened before."

She paused, then continued when it became clear neither Malfoy nor I were going to say anything. "You won the game, even if the points earned by the Snitch were considered void. Congratulations. However," she continued, just as I began to relax, "I still don't know what to do with you." It was clear which 'you' the woman was talking about.

"Don't punish her," Malfoy cut in, almost reluctantly. "She didn't even know what the Snitch was when she caught it." Surprised, I looked at the ref, who seemed a little uncertain.

"Alright," she relented. I grinned in relief and made to get up. She nodded and I practically skipped out of the room. Then I heard Malfoy say something that sounded suspiciously like "quit." I paused, hovering on the brink of walking away.

Then I left. No point in getting in trouble two times.


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, hello! I realize I have gotten at least 5 new reviews… Thank you so much for that, it meant a lot! I've also reached 500 views for this month alone… again, thank you! So, in either this chapter or the next one, I will give you what you have all been waiting for: the actual romance. And please, PLEASE continue to review. It means a lot to me (I dance around the house all night every time I get one) and a happy writer is a more productive writer! Also, I would welcome any tips on how to get more reads... Seeing as I haven't written very much and am always looking for a way to get my work out there! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy!**

A day later, I sat in DADA, blocking out Snape as he droned on and on about… whatever today's topic was. I didn't bother to listen, seeing as I could always look it up in the library later on. Today, the main topic that was at the front of my mind was Malfoy. He had quit the Slytherin Quidditch team- I had happened upon two Hufflepuff girls twittering about some made-up girlfriend he had to spend more time with or whatever. He had seemed distracted lately, though- when he passed me in the halls, he didn't even bother to knock my books out of my arms. I glanced over at him. He was talking to Crabbe and Goyle in the back of the room. His usual sullen glare was back on his face, and as I watched, he snapped at Goyle- or Crabbe, I could never get them straight- to shut up and let him do the thinking. I faced forward again with a grin twitching on my lips. Back to normal, then. Pushing him out of my mind, I scratched the homework down on a piece of parchment, then stuffed it in my pocket. It would gather lint there until I pulled it out at ten p.m. because I finally couldn't procrastinate anymore.

Snape finally dismissed us, and Malfoy bolted out of the classroom, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. I watched them go, then looked at my schedule. Go to transfiguration or go after them? Biting my lip, I glanced in the direction of the transfiguration classroom. Professor McGonagall was one of my favorite professors, despite the fact that she was the head of Gryffindor. Some things students should just overlook. But I wanted to find out what he was doing, and something told me it was related to whatever Snape had talked to him about during detention.

I glanced around the crowd, hoping to find an at least mildly friendly Slytherin. Maybe I could get McGonagall to think I was sick or something. Instead, I caught sight of Potter and his friends, Granger and the youngest Weasley boy. I edged closer, hoping to hear what they were saying.

"No, Harry!" hissed Granger. She tugged on the edge of his cloak. "Harry, c'mon, we've got class." The scarred celebrity glanced at her, then allowed her reluctantly to pull him away. I stared after them, unable to believe what I just saw. Harry Potter allowed Hermione Granger to pull him away from a chance to get Malfoy in trouble?

That sealed it. I headed after Malfoy without a second thought.

I was barely able to follow him after he had gotten such a large head start, but his white blonde hair was a dead giveaway in the crowd. He pushed against the flow, moving towards the back of the castle. I tilted my head as I shoved my way after him. For once, he wasn't allowing Crabbe and Goyle to do all the dirty work for him, instead carving his own path and letting his lackeys lumber behind him. As I watched, Malfoy grabbed two first-year girls and towed them with him. They were too frightened to protest.

Dodging the bully's backward glances, I hid behind a suit of armor. The little girls seemed close to tears as Malfoy knelt down in front of them. "Two hairs," he demanded, albeit in a softer tone than he had ever used with me. They quickly plucked a few hairs from their heads and waited nervously. "You can go," he told them. They scurried off, leaving the three Slytherin boys- and me- alone.

Once Malfoy was sure they were out of earshot, he pulled two flasks out of his robes and dropped the hairs in, one at a time, a flask for each little girl. Then he handed the flasks to Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle looked on the verge of protest, but when Malfoy gave him a glare and said, "Drink up, then," Malfoy's minion gulped it down.

Almost instantly, the two bigger boys' skin began to bubble. I held back vomit as Crabbe's face shrunk but his features stayed the same, and Goyle's legs shortened but his torso didn't. Finally, though, two exact copies of the little first-year girls stood in front of Malfoy. The blonde nodded distractedly and handed the flaxen-haired one- I had already lost track of which one was who- a set of scales. "Drop this if anyone comes by, got it? Especially Potter or one of his little friends."

The little girl nodded and sat down by a seemingly nondescript portion of wall. The black haired girl shifted awkwardly, then ran off when Malfoy gave her- _him- _a meaningful glare. Finally, Malfoy stood facing the wall. He took a deep breath, then began to stride down the passageway, muttering something under his breath. At the end of the wall, he turned on his heel and began to walk the other way.

A marking appeared on the wall. Then another, and another. The pattern of an intricate door soon emerged, twisting and solidifying as I watched. Finally, the door seemed to be finished, and Malfoy strode forwards, grasped the handle, and pulled the massive barrier open. From my vantage point, I could see nothing that was inside, just Malfoy as he slipped inside.

Without thinking it through, my wand was out. I pointed at the little blonde girl and, with a twinge of guilt, hit her- _him!- _with the full body bind. He toppled over without a sound, the scales resting silently on his chest. Then I hurried forwards to the door. It had begun to shrink even before closing fully, but I pulled it open and rushed inside. Pulling it shut behind me, I leaned against it for a moment to catch my breath, then looked up and around.

It was a storage closet. A huge, magical, hidden storage closet, but a storage closet all the same. As much as I would have loved to look around, however, I had to see what Malfoy was up to. I followed his barely visible profile, weaving in and out of various, books, clothing, and trunks.

He came to a big, bulky thing, covered in a sheer cloth. I squinted, trying to move closer without disrupting anything. Whipping the sheet off of it, Malfoy opened up what seemed to be a large wardrobe. In his hand, he held a simple green apple. I slid a bit closer. Closing his eyes in what seemed to be prayer, he placed the apple inside the wardrobe and closed the door. A pop resounded through the room and I winced, holding my ears. After a moment, Malfoy reopened the wardrobe and I craned my neck to see what had happened to the apple.

It was gone.

I gasped involuntarily, then covered my head and tried to duck low, hitting my head hard in the process. White lights burst in front of my eyes and I staggered back. "Ouch!" I hissed, then crouched low again, this time managing not to make too much sound.

"Who's there?" Malfoy called out, looking afraid. I stayed in my place, hoping that he would think a ghost made that noise or something. Much to my dismay, however, Malfoy began to stomp my way, treading carefully to avoid stepping on anything. Finally, I decided to go ahead and reveal myself. It wouldn't do any good if Malfoy found me here hiding like a child in trouble, and I would maybe stand a chance if I could talk him into believing I hadn't seen anything.

I stood up and Malfoy pointed his wand at me before a disgusted sneer crossed his features. "You," he groaned. I grinned sheepishly but slowly pulled out my wand behind my back. I wasn't going down unarmed.

"Me," I said. "So what were you doing?"

"How much did you see?" he asked at the same time. I paused, but he steadied his wand hand, and I wasn't going to let him cast a nasty jinx on me.

"Not much. You opened the wardrobe over there, put something in it, closed it, and opened it again." Not a lie, but not everything I had seen. It seemed to satisfy Malfoy, however, because his wand hand wavered.

"Alright, Mudblood," he said, "get out."

"You can't tell me to get out," I said childishly. "This is just a storage closet. I can be in here is I want."

The incredulous look on Malfoy's face made me blush. "Just a storage closet? You're more Muggle than you look, Sly."

I decided to ignore that, unsure of if he was complimenting my looks or insulting them. Or neither. "Whatever. I don't know where the door is, anyway."

"I'll take you," he said, and brandished his wand. "Move." It was clear that he was enjoying this small amount of power over me. Reluctantly, I began to walk, with Malfoy barking out orders behind me at seemingly nondescript places. "Right!" he'd say. Or, "Left! Your other left, you dirty little Mudblood. Yeah, that left!"

I bit my tongue, allowing him to think he was in control. What harm was it, really? Finally, we got to a huge oak door, and I turned around, partly to thank him sarcastically and partly to give him a piece of my mind for being such a git while we were walking back. "Look, Malfoy-"

I turned around and came face-to-face with him. His light gray eyes showed as much surprise as I felt, and I made to back up. Some tiny instinct in the back of my mind told me not to, however, and I stood there, unsure of what to do and extremely aware of how close he was.

Suddenly, he made to turn around. I wasn't sure what made me do it, whether it was pure daring or something I just wouldn't admit to myself yet, but I leaned in quickly and kissed Draco Malfoy full on the lips.

Crap. What was I doing? I pulled back quickly, then turned and ran out the door without saying anything. The little black haired girl was just beginning to wake up outside of the door, and for good measure, I stunned her again.

I mean, I has to vent somehow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh, the aftermath! I was eating frozen mango when I though of this, and it gave me an idea… Yay! Anyway, enjoy, and remember, a happy writer is a productive writer! And reviews make me very, very happy! And yes, I do realize I overuse exclamation points in my author's notes… oh, well! **

As I walked down the hall, my cheeks burned and I snuck furtive glances at everyone around me. Could they tell? And if they could, what did they think? I speed-walked to Transfiguration, prepared to face detention for a chance to go back to normal. Malfoy quitting Quidditch, the storage closet, the ki…I felt my blush return in full effect and walked faster. No need to think of that; no doubt I would be reminded of it far too many times in the coming weeks.

Mentally, I vowed to just forget about what I did. It was a stupid, impulsive thing to do, and I didn't even know why I did it. Perhaps I was feeling a bit sick. That was it! I raised a hand to my forehead. Maybe I had a fever, some disease that I didn't know about, that made victims' judgment go all screwy.

As I hurried into class, McGonagall gave me the piercing glare she was famous for. "Arietta Sly…"

I waited for the second detention I would be given in one week. Was that some kind of record?

"Miss Granger told me that she saw you run off looking slightly ill. Do you need to visit Madame Pomfrey?"

I started, then looked over at the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl. She gave me a little nod, and I returned it; no matter what house, Mudbloods watched each others' backs. "No," I responded, turning back to McGonagall. "No, I'm alright now."

I wished.

I watched the clock all class, nervous for the end to come. By now, the whole of Slytherin had probably found out, and some Gryffindors. By the end of the day, the whole school would be sniggering and pointing at the Mudblood dumb enough to kiss Draco Malfoy. I sank lower in my seat and tried to focus on turning the shoe in front of me into a white mouse. (Granger was already on her eighth, and had them all running inside a little cage she had made from Ronald Weasley's hat.) It was no use, however. My mind kept roaming to why I had kissed Malfoy and how he would make me pay.

After what seemed like moments, McGonagall announced that it was time to leave. I checked my schedule, just to double check- my memory couldn't be right- and almost jumped out of one of the windows. Free period. Maybe I should just ask Snape if there was any extra work I should do- dissecting diseased rats would be more pleasant than what I was sure I would be facing when I got to the common room. Sorting the slugs would be more pleasant!

I stopped before the hidden door, the entrance to the common room. I steeled myself with a calming breath, then said, "Lethifold." The wall slid open, revealing a dank passageway. I walked through it and emerged, nervously, into the quite crowded Slytherin common room.

The normal Slytherins were hanging out there. Blaise Zabini was skulking in a corner, and Crabbe and Goyle were over in the corner, apparently trying to do homework and miserably failing. Malfoy was sitting with Parkinson, as he usually did, but he seemed to be a little more reserved towards her than normal. I didn't take much note of that, however. Every so often he would let her act like his girlfriend, but he never really seemed committed to her. To her credit, she didn't ever give up. Theodore Nott was there as well, quietly playing chess against Hortenese Dabanne and seemingly at a stalemate. I gritted my teeth and waited for the barrage of insults and jeers that would surely come my way.

Nothing. They all, basically, ignored me. Malfoy looked up once, a faint blush staining his pale cheeks, but he said nothing. Instead, Parkinson said, "What's that smell?" and Zabini replied "A Mudblood walked into the room." That was it. No snide remarks about how pathetic and deluded I was, no mention of anything that had happened between Malfoy and me. I sat in one of the armchairs in the far corner of the room and took out my Transfiguration homework. Parkinson sneered. "Staying, Mudblood? Maybe I should have brought a nose plug."

"And a face mask. She could use it," Hortenese added. The group by Malfoy roared with laughter. Malfoy, however, got up quietly. His mouth was tense and he looked sick.

Parkinson frowned. "Are you alright, Draco?" Her voice dripped with sugar, making me cringe. Malfoy looked my way, causing me to duck behind my book. A fiery burn spread across my cheeks. Parkinson caught him looking my way and forced a laugh, although it was obvious that she was confused. "Mudblood making you ill?"

"Yeah," Malfoy muttered, causing me to flush again, but angrily this time. "Yeah. Zabini, you're in Slughorn's class, aren't you? Tell him I'm not going to be in class. I don't feel so well." He cut his eyes at me, then turned and limped up the stairs wearily. Parkinson looked stricken, her eyes wide in her pug face. Crabbe and Goyle, however, seemed used to the blonde boy's mood swing. Crabbe opened his mouth hesitantly.

"Since when does he care about if he's skipping class?" the hulking boy asked slowly. No one had an answer.

After a moment's silence, I couldn't bear being in the same room as the other Slytherins. I could feel Parkinson glancing at me repeatedly, as though she was trying to figure something out. Finally, she bit her lip and got up. "I'm going to go check on Draco," she announced. A general muttering saw her out. I rose too, and packed my books into my bag. I left to silence.

I was walking without watching where I was going, and unavoidably bumped into someone. I muttered a "sorry" and looked up to see if I needed to watch out for a curse. Instead, I came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing in the girls' dormitories?" I hissed. He shifted awkwardly, muttering something about being alone. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't want to be bothered by Parkinson," he snapped, "and this isn't technically the girls' dorms, anyway."

"No, it's the _tunnel_ to the girls' dorms," I replied. He flushed light pink, a color that wouldn't be noticeable on anyone else but showed up vividly on his almost grey cheeks. "Why don't you go somewhere else? You wouldn't want to be discovered here."

"I won't be," he retorted, and pressed his hand against the wall. A hidden door slid open and I gasped, almost offended that a boy had discovered a secret passageway in the girls' dorms. "I just go in here."

"What is it?" I asked, peering inside.

"Another common room." Malfoy crossed his arms smugly, all embarrassment gone. "Guess they overrated the girls' intelligence at Hogwarts, didn't they?"

I considered asking how he found it, but decided I didn't want a full account of a make-out session that he and some idiot had probably had a while ago. Then I mentally kicked myself. Hypocrite, much?

I focused back on Malfoy. He was studying me, almost in the same manner as Parkinson had. Except, his eyes held less venom. Instead, he simply examined me, as one might a chessboard. A Muggle chessboard, that is; the Wizarding pieces shouted too much to allow actual thinking. Finally, he said what I realized he must have been dying to ask ever since the storage closet incident: "What were you thinking?"

I blushed, but faked him out: "What do you mean?"

He wasn't convinced, but stepped forward almost menacingly. "You know what I meant, Mudblood."

I couldn't answer his question- I had no idea myself. Instead, I went for diversionary tactics. "Don't you want to know how I got past Goyle?"

"Crabbe was standing guard," Malfoy informed me dryly. "And no, it couldn't have been that hard. It looked like a Stunning Spell."

I frowned. How obvious could that have been, really? I wouldn't know the difference between a Stunned Crabbe and a sleeping Crabbe, to be honest; both times a vacant, drooling expression overcame his face.

"Anyway, what did you… do that… for, anyway?" To my surprise, he looked vaguely uncomfortable and avoided using the term "kiss." Of course, that just prompted me to bother him.

"Oh, you mean the kiss?" I trilled. Malfoy shifted his weight awkwardly to his other leg and I forced an airy laugh. "Just decided to try it. It was my first, you know. Figured it couldn't hurt much." I wasn't lying about the first kiss part, but I was putting on a definite air of bravado. Malfoy saw right through it, too; I could see it on his smug face.

"Honestly, Mudblood. Try not to get too much of a crush on me." He smirked and shoved past me. I watched him go, and all I could think was, 'Don't let him get the last word! Not about this!'

"What? Too scared your precious Parkinson will find out and dump you?" I jeered after him. Then I kicked myself- again. Why was I being such an idiot?

Malfoy froze, and I preyed silently for him to leave. Of course, I knew he wouldn't- he never let anything go, it seemed- but it wouldn't hurt to try. Slowly, he spun on his heel. I blinked, and he was in my face, his mint breath spilling over my features. "You want to know why I don't want you kissing me, Mudblood?" he asked quietly, danger leaking out of his every pore. I resolved to seal my mouth shut and never open it again as I furiously shook my head. The bully tilted his head. His icy eyes roamed over my features. Then, he leaned forward.

I wasn't expecting it, and I drew back suddenly, hitting my head on a flag post. While I was wincing in pain, Malfoy leaned forwards again, trapping me between his arm and the flag. His eyes were a lake of confusion and something else, something that looked like defiance but wasn't quite that. I searched his features for a clue as to what he was going to do next: punch me, insult me, threaten me? I wasn't even going to entertain the fourth option, seeing as it was too preposterous to even consider-

Then his lips were on mine, hard and angry. I instinctively closed my eyes, then frowned and opened them again. Malfoy's were closed, and I was shocked by how separate he kept himself, even while kissing me.

Then it struck me. Draco Malfoy, King Pureblood and a nasty bully at that, was kissing me! And yet… I remembered the stirring in my heart I had written off as compassion when I looked at him, the impulsive kiss I had given him not even two hours ago. My eyes drifted shut again and I allowed my fingers to tangle themselves in his hair.

I was in love with Draco Malfoy.


	8. Chapter 8

H**ey! I'm sorry it's been so long… I got banned from using the computer for a while cause of my math grade (a low B). Grr to 500 point tests…Anyway, thank you to xxz0eyxx for commenting so much… If only everyone was like you! Also a belated thank you to cuddlebear992, for the awesome longness of your review! (I don't think 'longness' is a word, but whatever.) So, as always, read, review, and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I think we all know who I own and who I don't, so let's get on with the story!**

The room in the wall became our special little spot. Draco would be waiting there after class, or I would be waiting for him, and we'd just sit there, doing homework and talking. We never talked about heavy stuff, like why Draco had been crying, and we usually fought a bit, but it became a haven. Outside of the room, you could barely tell that anything had changed between us. Parkinson still laid all over Draco, the other Slytherins still tormented me, and Draco still sneered in my direction when he was with his little posse. But when we were alone, he was one of the most sensitive people I had ever met. He was still cruel sometimes, but he was defensive and lonely. His swagger was all but gone.

I, on the other hand, was more outgoing when we were alone. I vented sometimes, just letting out all my frustration about Parkinson and the others, about how Snape seemed to hate me just for being in his house, and how no one really wanted anything to do with me. Draco would just hold me until I was done. Then he would make some demeaning joke about one of them and make me laugh, and we would be okay.

Friday came sooner than I expected, and along with it came the usual ache in my chest. People were filing out to go to Hogsmeade, and Draco was more nervous and distracted then I had ever seen him. My Muggle parents, overprotective and still unsure of the world their only child had been thrown into nearly six years before, had written a letter telling me to come home for Christmas per usual. This was the first year I wanted to write back a no, because I wanted to spend Christmas with Draco. We had a whole evening planned out- food from the kitchens (God only knew how Draco got inside), presents, and, in my imagination at least, mistletoe. But I didn't want to hurt them- they were upset enough at barely seeing me all school year. Draco had detention with McGonagall, so I was left alone per usual in the common room.

_Dear Mom and Dad, _I wrote, using a normal ball point pen and a sheet of lined paper. Didn't want to go all parchment and quill on the poor folks. _How are you? I am doing fine. I am getting good grades, per usual _–no point in telling them about my issues in Potions, they wouldn't know how to deal with that one- _and I have made quite a few friends lately. _Hah- one friend, more like, if I could even call Draco that. Friends shouldn't be ashamed of each other in the halls. _I have loads of studying and homework, but I graduate next year, and I am working very hard to become an Auror. That's kind of like a policeman for magical criminals. _Not really. _I would love to come home for Christmas, but I feel like it would be wiser to stay here, where it would be easiest to continue my studies. I would also like to hang out with my friends a little more. _They didn't need to know that I would barely do any homework over the vacation, if my plans worked out. _I love you and I'll see you during the summer. Love, your daughter, Arietta. _

There. That ought to do it. I folded it up and walked over to where a Hogwarts owl was cleaning its feet. Ugh- this one always gave me attitude. Carefully, I held out the paper. It cocked its head and held out one foot. Suspicious of its willingness to cooperate, I slowly used a piece of twine to tie the paper around its ankle. Halfway through the process, it nipped me.

"Ow!" I cried, leaping about five feet in the air. Glaring at the bird, I finished tying the knot quickly and told it the address. Its luminescent eyes seemed to laugh at me as it flew out the window I was holding open. Quickly, I shut the thing, then shivered as the draft wrapped my in its chilly clutches. I walked quickly up to the girl's dorm and grabbed a quilt, then went back downstairs and wrapped up in it. The clock on the wall told me that it was only 8:15, but I was getting sleepy, and the flickering light from the fire wasn't helping. I curled up on the couch and listened to the lake water lapping against the wall.

A while later, I heard the door at the end of the tunnel scrape open and wondered briefly if I should sit up. I decided not to- too lazy and comfortable to move. To my surprise, Draco walked in from the tunnel, his white-blonde hair shining in the dull light.

"Arietta."

"Draco." I scooted over on the couch to make room for him. "How was detention?"

He scowled and sat down, wrapping an arm around me. I pulled the cover out from around me with some difficulty and slung it over him, too. He was shivering and his clothes were icy. "Merlin, what did she have you doing?"

"Filing papers. Apparently she doesn't believe in heat." Draco, like me, preferred things comfortably warm.

"When should we be expecting Parkinson and the lot back?"

"Not for a while. But either way, we should probably-"

"Just be careful. Yeah."

We stood up together and shuffled down the hall to the entrance to the other common room. Draco pressed on the wall and the door opened, letting us in without a sound. We settled down on a couch by the fire, close enough together that my body heat would warm Draco up. The temperature in the room was warm enough that I didn't need the blanket, but I kept it anyway. It was cozy.

"So I'm staying for Christmas," I said drowsily, leaning against Draco. He twirled my hair around his finger.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm."

"That's good. I already got your present."

"You got me a present?"

"'Course."

"What do you mean, 'course? A week ago you hated me."

"Not true!" Draco protested, but I just shook my head and snuggled closer into him.

"Let's not fight. Not right now." I tilted my head up to look at him. "There's time later for that."

Draco suddenly sat up straighter, shifted me in his arms, and moved me more onto his lap. "You're right," he murmured. Leaning down, he pressed his lips gently to mine.

Our second kiss couldn't have been more perfect.

**And… SCENE! Yay, more fluff. Things are gonna get a lot more difficult for Arietta and Draco soon, so I wanted them to have one last sappy moment together before all hells breaks loose. Okay, people, I know we can do this. PLEASE REVIEW! I don't care if it's critique or compliments or suggestions or what (If you can help it, please no flames… and if you absolutely HAVE to write one, please include some helpful critique!), just review! My goal is 50 by the time I'm done with this story, and so far it ain't lookin' good, folks. So please, PLEASE tell me what you think! Thank you so much for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Heyyo! I'm not sure whether to add more fluff or actually get the plot started- but you know what? We'll see where it goes. Either way, there's gonna be a lot of Draco and, unfortunately, a lot of Parkinson. Blech. Thank you so much for the onslaught of reviews- I loved it, please continue! Maybe I'll jinx Parkinson or something in this or the next chapter in thanks- wouldn't that be wonderful? Anyway- as always, please enjoy!**

"Mmm." I breathed in slowly and luxuriously. There was a comforting warmth at my back, and I snuggled closer to it. An arm draped around my waist, pulling me closer, and my foggy brain startled awake. Arm? What- whose arm?

I turned around with some difficulty, finally realizing that I wasn't in my dorm in my bed. I was on a couch, in a Slytherin room- Draco and my room. And asleep beside me? Draco.

He looked kind of… vulnerable in his sleep. His pajama shirt was wrinkled and half unbuttoned, which I quickly looked away from, and his white-blonde hair was mussed and soft under my fingers. He had draped a blanket over us sometime during the night, and was hogging almost all of it, clutching it in his arms. His eyelids fluttered as he murmured something. The tense set of his jaw was gone, as was the hardness of his neck muscles. As I watched, he stretched and arm out and yawned, showing straight white teeth. I ran my tongue over my own uneven ones.

"Arietta?" he asked tiredly, opening one eye and squinting. "What time is it?"

I shrugged sleepily and sat up, pushing myself off my elbows and stretching my back backwards. "Sometime in the morning. I'd guess we already missed breakfast."

Draco nodded and ran a long-fingered hand through his hair, pulling it back from the sharp angles of his cheekbones. He was still half-lying down, his body curled around me, propped up on his arm. "I would guess so, too." Reaching out, he drew a light finger across my mouth, causing me to blush. "Your hair is a bloody mess, Mudblood," he laughed quietly, still half asleep. My heart skipped a beat and I reared back angrily. Somehow, the fact that he wasn't quite awake just made the statement worse, like that was how he reflexively thought of me.

"'Mudblood?' So you still see me as another liability to your perfect wizarding line?" My voice shook and I got up, ignoring my legs' weary protests. "I thought we were past that. I don't know why I ever fooled myself into believing that-"

I wasn't going to say it. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered how I had gone from reverent to furious so quickly, but I pushed that away. Of course I was upset. I thought about how he had kissed me, then about how he never let his friends see me with him in public. "I bet this was all just a little laugh with your pureblooded posse, huh? Your fan club? How fast could you get the idiot American, the desperate Mudblood, to fall for you?"

Malfoy was wide awake now, his eyes like ice. He didn't even try to deny it, even as I paused and waited. Hoped desperately that I was wrong. The silence felt like a thousand weights on my shoulders, pressing against me. I should have known. It went too fast, the whole thing was too sudden. And I had been desperate, stupid enough to believe that the most bigoted Pureblood in the school would ever glance at a Mudblood like me.

I stomped away, out of the hidden door. I felt Draco's eyes on me the entire time, but I was more concerned about the tears pricking the corners of my own.

I hid in my room until lunch time, remembering with a shudder the way Draco's lips had felt on mine, the way his body had curled around me. I had been such an idiot, falling right into the trap. But by the time twelve o'clock hit, I couldn't deny my stomach any more. Reluctantly, I made my way down to lunch.

Pansy Parkinson was on Draco's lap when I got down there, her arm around his shoulders, his arm around her back and his other hand on her knee. His hair was neatly gelled back again, and she was engaged in smoothing it away from his face protectively. I flinched and looked away. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Draco had a look of such lazy superiority on his angular face that I couldn't doubt that they were laughing about me.

Nearby, some girls were whispering about a Gryffindor girl who had been cursed. Pretending not to listen, I ladled some soup into my bowl and tuned into their conversation.

"Yeah, she was just carrying this box, and then she opened it, and she and her friend were, like, arguing, and she touched this necklace inside it, and wham, she was hanging in the sky and screaming!" one of them hissed excitedly. "And Professor Snape, I overheard him saying she was, like, lucky to be alive!"

I frowned and went back to my meal. Weird. From where Parkinson and Draco- he's Malfoy again to you, I reminded myself- sat, I could hear a similar conversation taking place. The muscles in Malfoy's neck jumped and his mouth tightened a little. Parkinson gave a high-pitched giggle and scooted closer to the blonde boy. "Filthy Mudblood anyway," I overheard her say. He glanced at her coldly, then looked over in my direction. When our eyes met, his registered something like shock. I broke eye contact first to stare down at my suddenly unappetizing soup. Sighing, I got up and walked to the other side of the room to the entrance. My bed called.

I paused at the library door, half expecting Malfoy to come out of nowhere and either kiss or kill me. Even a snide remark would have been welcome. Seeing him with Parkinson had dulled the anger and fury of the morning into a painful emptiness in my chest, a clenching in my stomach, a knot in my throat. I longed for the hot anger again, to fill the space for a while. I wanted a fight. So when Parkinson strode up to me, I was ready for her.

"Hey, Mudblood," she sneered. I just looked at her. An angular eyebrow rose and she smirked. "I heard how desperate you're being. As if someone like Draco would ever glance at you."

"Either you were acting just as bad and rubbing yourself all over Malfoy during lunch and making everyone around you sick, or I ate some bad mushrooms and had a hallucination."

"You're just jealous."

"Of Malfoy? Not a chance."

Parkinson laughed snottily. "I've seen the way you look at him. I'm not blind, you know. But it's not as if Draco would ever foul up his bloodline with the likes of you-"

"Shut up-"

"Or have anything to do with someone as stupid as you. You practically throw yourself at him every time you see him, and you don't even notice how much he hates you."

Furiously, I drew my wand, just as Malfoy himself came walking down the hall. His facial expression was already tight and stressed, but it just got worse when he realized what he had stumbled into. His pointed features were stressed and prominent.

"Draco." Parkinson sidled up to him and Malfoy put himself between her and my wand. I felt my eyes narrow. This was what I had been looking for, wasn't it? Pushing past the sharp pain in my stomach, I kept my head steady.

"Move, Malfoy. I'm casting a jinx and I don't care who I hit."

Malfoy drew his wand too, causing Parkinson to emit a squeal of either horror or anticipation- I couldn't quite tell. "Try it."

I flicked my wand, aiming for Malfoy, but he moved out of the way as I flicked my wand. "You wouldn't dare!" Parkinson cried as I flicked my wrist and yelled, "Furnunculus!" Beside me, Malfoy also muttered something and pointed his wand at the Slytherin girl. Boils and wiggling tentacles began to sprout from her. She stared at Malfoy in horror, and I realized with a jolt that he had created the tentacles. Then, she ran off, presumably to the hospital wing. Without speaking to me, Malfoy also hurried away.

**Well? What'd ya think? Just so you know, the Malfoy vs. Parkinson thing isn't gonna last for long, but it's nice for a while, no? Anyway, please keep up the reviews! You all make me so happy when you comment!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey! Three cheers for fast updates! I haven't been getting many reviews lately… Remember, MY GOAL IS 50! PLEASE HELP! Now that THAT'S out of the way, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed… I love you all! Cookies for everyone! Nothing makes an author happier than knowing people have read and liked her story. And, of course, fluff… which there will be PLENTY of in this chapter! And Draco crying again, but let's not ruin everything… As always, please read, review, and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: This is fanfiction. If I were J.K. Rowling, I would be writing another Harry Potter book, preferably with Draco romance, not writing on a site meant for fans. I wonder if she reads HP fanfics? There's a thought… Sorry, random ;) **

For the next few weeks, Malfoy seemed to be in a mood even worse than I had ever seen him in. To be honest, he had been in generally high spirits in the beginning of the year, as far as I could tell. Ever since I had caught him crying, however, I had noticed little differences in his behavior. Now, even though I avoided him as much as possible, I saw him getting what seemed to be more and more… desperate, somehow, and stressed. His clothes were wrinkled, and his hair a mess. Parkinson had noticed, too, and evidently attributed this to his outburst in the hall. They were back to their disgusting, sickly-sweet relationship, with Malfoy more unresponsive than ever and Parkinson trying vainly to keep his attention. Crabbe and Goyle seemed more and more disgruntled, too. They simply lumbered by me in the halls, barely noticing I was there. Really, only Parkinson noticed I existed anymore, and taunted me ineffectively in the hallways to amuse herself. My mind was focused entirely on forgetting Malfoy, however, and I was able to kindle a little fire of hatred in my heart which I held close whenever I was forced to think about him.

Soon, however, I had nothing else to think about. Thanks to Professor Slughorn's insane "Slug Club," which I had been invited to three times and had pretended to be too busy to attend twice, I had been crossing paths with Malfoy more and more often. Harry Potter was also around a lot, prowling down the halls and startling whenever he noticed me. Potter crashed into me once and didn't even notice. Weasel just sneered at me, leaving Granger to offer an apologetic smile before hurrying after the boys. But Malfoy really caught my interest. He was being as sneaky as I had ever seen him, and something in the back of my mind told me that it had to do with the strange disappearing room and the odd cabinet he had been fiddling with when I had walked in on him.

Finally, it was nearing the holidays enough for me to worry that my mother and father hadn't responded to my letter. That unease, however, was quickly resolved. My mother's letter, while anything but reassuring, at least gave me the answer I was looking for:

_Dearest Arietta,_

_I got your letter, darling. I miss you, and so does your father. We are doing the best we can without our sweetheart, and we were really looking forward to seeing you this Christmas. Are you sure you want to stay at school for the holidays? I know you probably feel like they understand you better there than at home with us non-magic people, but can you blame us for wanting to spend a little time with you? We so rarely get to see you, sugar. However, I understand if you don't want to spend time with us, and will just have to wait until the summer._

_All my love,_

_Mommy_

I winced. My mother was a pro when it came to making me feel like I didn't appreciate or love her. When I had decided to go to Hogwarts, she had almost given me a nervous meltdown. Now, I really had nothing to stay for, but I decided to stay anyway. If I couldn't say no to my mother in a letter, I would never be able to say it face to face. Carefully, I pulled out my pen and lined paper.

_Dear Mom,_

_I miss you too. I'm sorry that you were looking forward to this Christmas, but I promise to spend__ loads __lots of time with you this summer. I have to stay at school for a while; I'm sure you'll understand. I would love to spend time with you, but the schoolwork here is unfortunately too demanding for me to come home right now. _

_I love you,_

_Arietta_

Carefully, I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket. A noise from behind me startled me and I spun around, only to come face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. His pale cheeks were flushed, and I could tell that he was just as startled to see me as I was to see him. A paper fluttered to the ground from the table and I barely had enough time to register what it was before Malfoy scooped it up.

"Gimme that!" I snapped, reaching for my mother's letter. I was in no mood to play games with him- the little kindling in my chest would turn to fire if given enough fuel. The blonde boy held it above my head, just out of my reach, incensing me. I could tell that he was feeling quite a bit better about himself, because he had a smirk on his face to rival any I'd seen yet. What could have happened to make his mood so high, I had no idea, but I wasn't really that interested. Or so I told myself. I just wanted my mother's letter back.

"What's this? A page out of your diary?" Malfoy sneered. He couldn't read that- couldn't know how my parents still babied me, even though I was sixteen years old. I would never live that down.

"So what if it is? Why would you care what a Mudblood thinks?" I asked desperately, but it was too late. Malfoy was already unfolding the paper, holding it tauntingly out of my reach.

"Dearest Arietta- I got your letter, darling. I miss you, and so does your father." Malfoy had begun in a high mockery of an American accent, but his voice quieted as he read on. "We are doing the best we can without our… sweetheart…" Now he was silent. His face had shut down suddenly, his mouth slowly chewing over the words carefully. I watched him, half afraid and half mortified, as he got to my mother's outrageous guilt trip. He said nothing, however, just looked up after the last word and handed me the letter wordlessly. This was not the reaction I had been expecting, and I stared at him. No snide remark? No mocking tease? To my shock, I saw a glimmer in his eye that hadn't been there before.

"What?" I had meant my voice to be hard and sharp, but it came out gently. Malfoy ducked his head.

"Nothing. Nice mother you've got there."

I blushed, but Malfoy wasn't looking at me, just at his feet. The fire in my chest was doused, replaced with… what? Residual pity from our brief romance, if you could call it that? Everything was back to normal, now, except for… this. Silently, I watched him go up the stairs to the boys' dorm.

Something was nagging at the back of his mind. A memory from my fourth year at Hogwarts. Harry Potter had insulted Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy, right before Malfoy had pulled his wand and gotten turned into a ferret. The twisted expression on Malfoy's face caught my attention now, however. An expression full of anger- and _hurt_…

A rumor swirled into my head. The rumor that the oldest Malfoy was a Death Eater. He was in Azkaban now, I knew that much. And then a final rumor, that had always rung oddly true to me, that although Malfoy idolized his father, Lucius Malfoy found precious little time for his only son…

I found myself dashing up the stairs to the boys' dorm. Malfoy had a single, I knew that much- his father was rich enough to afford that- but where was it? I decided to go with the one with a plaque spelling "seeker" in bronze letters and busted open the door.

Malfoy was sitting on the bed, his shoulders shaking. His green and silver tie was slung across a green leather chair and his cloak balled up in a corner of the room. Otherwise, the room was quite… orderly. I crossed it with a few swift steps, shutting the door quietly behind me. My pity for Malfoy, and perhaps something else, battled with my longtime hatred and hurt. Dimly, I realized that this is what I should have felt while we were… well, whatever that was. I pushed the thought away, however, and sat next to the sobbing boy. He felt frail in my arms. He tensed, pushing away and wiping his face, but I kept a hold of his hand. "Your father's a prat," I said fiercely, "if he doesn't realize how proud he should be…"

Malfoy hiccupped. "I don't think he would be very proud of me now," he said shakily. "I'm a failure. I've failed to protect myself, my family, and now my family's reputation…"

"That's not your job," I said quietly. God, did I know what it was like to have too many expectations. "It's his job- you're only sixteen, you shouldn't have to deal with your family's reputation…"

"What would he think," Malfoy muttered, "to see a Mudblood in my room…"

I stiffened, but Malfoy continued. "Funny thing is… I don't think I care about that bit very much anymore." He shuddered. His knees seemed to give out and I did the only thing I could think to do- I kissed him, trying to comfort and reassure him.

The door flew open and a shrill voice screamed out, "Draco!"

I turned to come face to face with a livid Pansy Parkinson.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Heyyo! Three cheers for end-of-the-school-year projects… NOT! Grr. I have a five page essay, three dresses (designed and sewn by me) for my senior project, and a Spanish review packet due. And no, I'm not a senior. Let's just say my school's a little wacky. Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! I'm really busy, but I don't want to let any of you down; please don't let me down! Here's one of my favorite quotes; I think it's appropriate here.**

_**I can't write without a reader. It's precisely like a kiss—you can't do it alone.**_

_**So. Yeah. Anyway, I am gonna have a LOT of fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading it! So as always, read, review, and enjoy! Warning, there's a teensy bit of language in here- my character gets mad, for good reason, and it just sounded right… please don't get offended!**_

_I turned to come face to face with a livid Pansy Parkinson._

I didn't get the chance to back away. She was already coming at me, her finger pointed right at my chest, her shrill voice piercing a hole in my eardrum. "How DARE you COME into DRACO'S ROOM and KISS HIM!" she shrieked. I shrank back, ready for more abuse at the hands of a Slytherin.

Behind me, I heard a quiet voice. "Go away, Parkinson. I have every right to do what I want, with whoever I want." Draco stepped in front of me, his voice icy cold. "I'm not property, certainly not yours. Your mother was a filthy blood traitor- everyone knows it. I don't fraternize with blood traitors."

Parkinson's face went completely slack at this. I felt mine do the same- Parkinson, daughter of a blood traitor? And Malfoy, sticking up for me? The other girl was shaking, shocked tears welling up in her eyes. "So a Mudblood is worth more than me?" she spat. "'Cause that's what's standing behind you."

"A Mudblood is by birth," Draco said calmly. "A blood traitor is by choice. So yes, she's a step ahead of you- even if it's very small." His face twisted when he looked at her, and I saw a brief glimpse of what I had seen of his father in him at that moment. "You're disgusting and filthy. Get out of my room and stay away from me." He gave her one last disgusted glance up and down. "And stop trying so hard. You're just embarrassing yourself."

Parkinson choked back a sob, turned, and fled.

I stood frozen behind him. I had seen him act so cruel, of course- I had been his target of choice for the past six years, exempting Harry Potter and that posse, of course. But I had never seen him say one word against a pureblood who was loyal to him, whether it be Blaise Zabini or Pansy Parkinson. I was, flatly, shocked by what he had said to her. For the first time, I wondered if it was worth it to risk my heart on this boy. That was what I was doing, wasn't it? I had now kissed him over four times. And on most of them, he had kissed me back, but was that only reflex? Was I really only one step ahead of Parkinson?

Draco turned to me, and I saw the same icy cruelty I had heard in his voice in his eyes. "Leave, Mudblood. I have no wish to see you right now."

I felt myself shaking. "I'm sorry," I snapped. "What am I, your whore?"

The minute that left my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake. Instead of lashing out at him, I should have fought his cold fire with heated_ ice_. Now, what little was left of the Draco I had kissed just moments earlier was completely gone, replaced by a brutal public mask. "Did you think you were more?" he asked frostily. I flinched despite myself.

"Let me know when you're ready to grow up and stop playing with other peoples' emotions," I said quietly. Tears pricking my eyes, I spun on my heel and barely made it out the door.

**Short but loaded, right? Draco and Arietta's relationship just keeps yo-yoing from bad to good to bad to worse to OK to bad again! The next chapter is where the real excitement is going to start, though- and I can't wait! YAY! Anyway, please review- the more reviews, the faster I will update, and the longer my chapters will be! Thank you SO MUCH for reading!**


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